Rise of Archangel
by Malhiem
Summary: His time on the Normandy completed, Garrus Vakarian returns to the Citadel. With the news of Shepard's death and bureaucracy impeding justice, he turns in his badge and decides to go somewhere where justice is in his hands: Omega.


**Disclaimer: Mass Effect belongs to BioWare and the rEApers. I do not own the rights to Mass Effect.**

**A/N: Hi guys, this is my first fanfic and I am looking into the rise of Archangel between Mass Effect 1 and Mass Effect 2. This is my creative outlet and I am looking to post more chapters to this story. I'm dedicating this story to ~Fempire, for being my awesome editor and helping make this story a reality. Like a good editor, she yelled at me to get it done, destroyed my writing and made it even better. If you're into witty and romantic tales between Liara and FemShepard I would definitely suggest reading her two stories, "Love Is a Battlefield" and her second ongoing story "Priority: Vacation". Thanks again, ~Fempire!**

**Without further ado, let's dive on into the story.**

**Chapter 1: New Beginnings**

* * *

Garrus Vakarian watched fighters, freighters, and smaller ships silently float past the window; akin to gigantic fish in an even larger aquarium. A thick layer of grime covered the window. He pondered cleaning it, but he knew that was a losing battle.

'_Filth spawns more filth, and Omega is no different.'_

Garrus heard the air filters silently hiss and shudder, yet no amount of filtration and cleaning would remove the fact that he was inhaling breaths exhaled by low lives and mercenaries. He turned from the window. He was in a small room, poorly lit, and adorned with a table and a chair on each side. He contemplated his situation, _how did he get here?_

* * *

"Vakarian! Executor Pallin would like to see you."

The communiqué from his computer knocked him out of his light stupor. C-Sec had him stuck behind a desk for the next week, and the mind numbing work meant that he often had his mind wandering to adventures with Shepard. He thought of Shepard often after the Normandy went down, and took her down with it. Rumours were that it was an unknown enemy, and despite the surmounting evidence, the Council refused to believe that it was the Reapers. He scowled slightly as he realized he was already in front of the Executor's office.

He did a mental step back and walked in. Pallin's office overlooked the Presidium, giving a view of the bridge and fountains below. The Executor's desk faced the door and he looked uninterested as Garrus walked into his office.

"Sir!" Garrus saluted the Executor and glanced at the volus in the room.

'_He must be here about the money laundering case,'_ he thought.

He had recently arrested a volus by the name of Jarla Don, in association to a suspected money laundering scheme occurring on the Citadel. Garrus and his small team had been watching his movements from the Citadel to Irune for weeks before bringing him in during a sweep. It was only then that the volus caved under interrogation that Garrus learned exactly how big the money laundering was, with many members of the volus parliament and justice system involved. With so much information, Jarla stayed imprisoned in the C-Sec jail down in the Wards.

"Vakarian, this is Din Korlack. He is the ambassador for Irune and represents the volus on the Citadel."

Garrus nodded at the small volus behind the desk.

"You did a very good job investigating and arresting Jarla Don for the money laundering operation that was occurring in the Wards. We have an air-tight case against him, however, the volus would like to prosecute him on their homeworld, and I am hereby requesting all information about the case."

Garrus committed a mental double-take, "I'm sorry, Executor. I must have misheard you. Did you say you wanted me to transfer the case file?" His heart sank.

"That's exactly what I've requested," Pallin told him sternly.

"With all due respect to the volus, sir..." Garrus said, glancing at the Ambassador, "... but there are numerous highly ranked volus involved in this. We have this guy like a turian in water. They'll just let him go!" Garrus seethed.

Din Korlack, who was once all but silent besides his breathing apparatus, spoke up, "Psst... officer, I can assure you that Jarla Don will be prosecuted to the full extent of volus law. Ksst."

"I'm afraid this is out of my jurisdiction, Vakarian. The crime took place mostly in volus space, and they are eligible to prosecute Jarla Don if they see fit," Pallin said.

Garrus couldn't read the Executor, but he was growing more and more frustrated by the minute. This wasn't his first time around the block; he's seen numerous criminals arrested on the Citadel only to be trucked off to be sentenced by their kind, let off the hook and never heard of again.

"I'm sorry, Executor, but with these files, you'll also find my resignation," Garrus said as he undid his holstered service M6 Carnifex, and put his badge on the desk.

Garrus began to walk out of the room, surprised by his own reaction.

"Thank you for your service, Vakarian," Pallin said passively as the door opened.

Garrus responded with what he had seen Shepard do many times in combat and on the Normandy, as he raised his middle claw-like finger over his head as the door shut behind him.

* * *

Garrus snapped back to reality and smiled as he thought of his quiet rebellion, pondering if he could have done it any better. Within a week, he had liquidated most of his belongings to credits. Bringing only what he needed as he stood and stared at the board stating what ships were going to what destinations.

Pondering a cheap fare for a trip to Omega, Garrus lifted his pack, _'At least, I could do some good there, even if there wasn't any proper law enforcement.'_

He knew that Shepard would have approved if he decided to take matters of justice into his own hands.

Grabbing his pack, Garrus walked towards Hangar 16. On his way to the hanger, he stopped to look at the Citadel skyline one last time. He never really admired the beauty, and only when he was about to leave, did he actually take the time to stand there and just watch.

The atmosphere near the hangar was not the pleasant light blue that the Presidium had, but closer to a midnight blue thanks to the Citadel's location pointing away from the nebula, and the quick change from atmosphere to vacuum. The darkened setting discomforted him, but he could not deny the beauty of the sight. The ward arm before him held numerous buildings, twinkling with the gold, blue and red lights of a bustling city. Garrus never had the chance to perform his duty on that arm; C-Sec had multiple departments for each part of the Citadel. He stood there and watched the lights of skycars quickly darting around in the air and through the many streets of the Citadel, going to whereabouts unknown. It felt almost... organic, as if the streets were the veins and arteries of a thriving entity and the cars giving the city life.

Garrus was thankful for that moment of peace; the first he had in a long time. He would miss the Citadel, not for its bureaucratic procedures, but for its hidden beauty. He lifted his pack, but stood there pondering for a moment. He set down the pack again and opened it, retrieving the battle helmet for his armour. The visor tinted, he felt like he would like the anonymity for where he was going. Donning the helmet, he heard the suit pressurize and begin operations. The air scrubbers whirred into action as Garrus walked on towards the hangar.

The freighter itself was unique from others; most ships contained two cargo holds, but this one had four, doubling the capacity. Judging from the design, it looked as if two of these ships had been fused together; the wear and tear of space travel visibly pockmarked the light armour of the ship. The name, MSV Strontium Mule faintly seen upon its side indicated it had better days. The ship had dents from likely run-ins with space junk, the engines looked outdated by at least two models, and the cockpit looked somewhat smaller than the standardized ones from the outside. Garrus walked towards the ship's dock, approaching a man close to the ship's entrance who was manning a datapad.

"You headed to Omega?" Garrus asked the man stiffly, getting straight to business.

"Yup, but only paying customers come aboard," The man replied, squinting at the turian in distrust.

"Do you have private quarters?"

"Yeah, but only for pay—"

"A thousand credits should cover it, I think?"

"Nine hundred, actually."

"Consider it a bonus. Scrub your records of names, and I am not to be disturbed during the trip," Garrus said as he tapped his omni-tool and walked past the man onto the ship.

"Passengers are in Hull 3, you're in 3-G!" the man yelled after him, not leaving his post.

* * *

The interior was no better than the exterior; the colour of apparently everything being a dark blue.

Cargo crates crammed into the first two hulls as he walked between them, and he found that hull three was filled with cargo crates too, but these had been altered for human transport.

Finding 3-G easily, he found that the two fused cargo crates had enough room for a bed, a workbench, a table, and a locker. Removing his two packs, Garrus locked the door to his small yet cozy room, undid his helmet, and went to work.

His Mantis sniper rifle needed a good cleaning; he had never taken the time to do it properly and he knew to do it now before it haunted him later. Taking the gun apart carefully, Garrus ensured to lubricate the gun's components before reassembling it and calibrating the gun with his suit's internal computer.

During his work, the ship lurched, signifying the beginning of his voyage. By his estimate, he had a good five hours to finish his work. Tilting the unarmed sniper against the wall, Garrus accessed the extranet and began doing his research on Omega. He knew that a few ex-C-Sec officers had gone to Omega and he wanted to get back in touch with them, in hopes that it could prove useful.

* * *

After a few Mass Relay jumps, and a slow deceleration to the husk of an asteroid, the freighter finally docked with a lurch and a hiss of pressure stabilization.

Garrus had spent the entire trip in his designated quarters, inspecting his weaponry and then accessing the extranet. He despised going into something he didn't know, so he researched Omega; everything from housing, to nightlife, to governing bodies. He got in touch with a few of his connections and grilled them for information on the place. He wanted to ensure that he wasn't diving into cold water, or diving at all.

He quickly began gathering things together, ensuring that everything was accounted for and ready to go. His helmet was the last piece he considered; he figured it'd be better if he kept a low profile. With a click and a green light signaling its operation, he stepped out of his cargo crate.

As he disembarked the MSV Strontium Mule and took his first steps on Omega, he noticed the once clean, white panels of the ship had converted to a dark brown. The hallway had a gloomy look; a mixture of olive green and brown giving a stark contrast to the confines of the ship.

Garrus' thoughts nearly had him bump into the crowd of other passengers who stopped in front of him. Approaching cautiously, he realized that three krogan in Blood Pack armour stood blocking the path into Omega. The largest krogan stood in front, flanked by his companions who were hefting Avenger rifles.

"The Blood Pack is here to ensure your protection. In order to provide our services, we charge a 5,000 credit entry fee. Failure to pay this entry fee will result in my friends here..." he nodded to his flanking companions, "...giving you an idea of what lies beyond these doors, if you don't listen to orders."

There was a murmuring among the small crowd at the news. Garrus had moved through the crowd to the front. He was not going to put up with this attempt at extortion.

"Well, I suppose you should start with me, because my credits are better spent on a nice turian ale and an asari for the night," Garrus said as he moved to the left of the crowd to ensure they were not harmed in the possible crossfire. The six and a half foot turian in full armour was an intimidating sight and the krogan flanking their leader growled and pointed their rifles at him, but paused and awaited the larger krogan's orders.

The larger krogan laughed at the sight of Garrus, "You're not very smart. Are you, turian? There are three of us and one of you."

The two flanking krogan guffawed with the leader and eased their stance. With the rifles no longer pointed at Garrus, he took that moment to quick draw his personal Brawler pistol. Two bangs echoed through the small corridor followed by the sounds of two guns and two large corpses dropping and clattering to the ground. The head krogan's laughter died in his throat, like his companions just did. He reached down for his pistol, but Garrus already had his pistol at pointed at him, with his face contorted into a scowl.

Garrus chuckled, "I think you should consider recounting. Now, I'm not a very patient turian, so here's how this is going to go. You will give me your pistol to me, and after that, you will let these passengers and I go free of charge. After the door closes behind us, you wait 15 seconds, and you may leave. If I catch you extorting visitors again, I won't be as lenient," Garrus said with a growl.

"You'll regret this, turian," The krogan grunted.

Garrus was surprised that the krogan was complying, considering he was emasculating him. He'd seen many a krogan go into a blood rage with a simple insult.

The krogan unsheathed his weapon slowly, and stared at him for what seemed like eternity. Garrus could almost see the gears turning in his head, deciding whether to shoot him, charge him, or preserve himself for another day. The krogan saw a fully armoured turian standing poised to shoot, but on the inside, Garrus was letting his nerves get to him. Part of his mind was telling him to shoot before the krogan charged, while the military mind told him to relax and be vigilant. After an eternity of debate in his mind, the krogan tossed the pistol at his feet.

Garrus exhaled as he picked up the pistol. "If the Blood Pack are anything like you three er... one, then I don't think I have to worry," He examined the pistol briefly before continuing, "And if the rest of the Blood Pack is using Kessler manufacturing, then you'll definitely be easier than I thought. They don't pay you much, do they?"

Before the krogan could reply, Garrus fired a concussive shot that caused the onlookers to yell in shock. The shot knocked the large krogan against the wall before he slid down it and slumped over, unconscious.

"Conversation was getting boring, anyway..." Garrus glanced around at the stunned crowd, "Don't look at me like that. Get moving before he comes to."

Garrus began to walk the long corridor, the crowd muttering behind him.

"Thank you!" exclaimed an asari as he walked away. He pondered turning back but he just continued on.

* * *

Knowing that within an hour he'd be a wanted turian, Garrus decided that his last hour of freedom should be spent with a drink in hand. He walked through the crowds of Omega in silence, noting that the grunge not only reflected on the floors and the walls, but also in the people. He observed that most citizens of Omega had clothing that just seemed older, more tattered, and discoloured. It was as if he entered an unforeseen area of the Wards where the beggars and addicts of the Citadel lived. He silently walked through the crowd, getting the odd look as his dark blue armour seemed to be unscathed by the plague of Omega's lack of cleanliness.

Garrus entered a smaller passageway, a batarian passed out against the wall by the door. Not wanting to carry his pack around, he continued down the small hallway as it descended deeper and deeper. He followed the hallway and always took a right at every fork which finally led to a dead end. He paused, besides the distant sound of movement and voices, he did not hear anything that would signify a tactical assault or a stampede of krogan.

He silently lowered the pack and investigated the three doors in front of him. Two doors did not respond to his touch, being locked or encrypted, however, his luck turned on the last one. The door's motor whirred, louder than what he was used to on the Citadel, and opened with a loud hiss. The third one looked unkempt; glass and china on the floor as if the inhabitant was interrupted and dragged out.

Garrus had seen this kind of crime scene all too often; the whole scene in front of him screamed out mercenary. The thin layers of dust indicated that not a single soul had entered in at least a month, and the door logs confirmed it. He quickly dropped his pack on the floor and removed his helmet. As the suit hissed with recycled air, Garrus breathed in his surroundings. It was a pungent smell; it seemed like the air was old... as if the filters were working ineffectively. He didn't like it, but coming from a place like the Citadel, he knew he shouldn't be picky. Removing other core pieces of his combat armour, Garrus wanted to increase his mobility in case of attack while making him harder to identify in case the krogan came to. Content with his temporary home and appearance, Garrus hid his pack, reset, and encrypted the lock.

Returning the way he came, Garrus' nose was assaulted by somewhat foul smells the closer he came to the main passageways. The smells combined into something that Garrus could only describe as a mixture of grime and sweat. He scoured the streets for a bar but settled on a large building named "_Afterlife_."

The asari house music steadily grew louder as he walked the long hallway into the main floor of Afterlife. As he was approaching the second set of doors, he noticed a pair of Blood Pack krogan along the hall. His breath hitched, Garrus' hand grazed the holstered pistol as he hoped that he would not spot any sudden movements in his peripheral vision. When nothing happened, Garrus exhaled and immediately walked towards the bar for a drink.

The club itself was busier than he thought; different races were mingling on the dance floor like a multicoloured mosaic of skin and clothing. The bar was lined with different races as the bartenders bustled behind it, serving alcohol as quickly as they could.

Garrus found a spot among the standing crowd and gained the attention of a bartender. He did a quick hand gesture signifying a _Palaven Finest Turian Scotch_ and within a minute, he was served.

Garrus turned and watched the crowds again. He couldn't identify any threats, and took a swig of the scotch. Even the drinks here seemed less enjoyable, but scotch was scotch and he had a feeling that he wouldn't be enjoying it for quite a while.

He made room as a human male came to the bar, looking for a bartender that eventually came to him and walked down the bar to make his order. The human turned around and looked upon the crowd as Garrus did the same, taking another swig of his scotch. He glanced sideways at Garrus, looking him up and down before leaning up towards him and spoke just above the pulsating music.

"Takes a lot of courage to do what you did."

Garrus paused and glanced sideways at him, not recognizing the human from anywhere.

Garrus replied, "Yeah, I don't know what you're talking about," before taking another swig of his scotch.

The human chuckled, "Oh, come on, the MSV Strontium Mule? Just docked 45 minutes ago? Blood Pack krogan welcoming party? You know, if you really wanted to disguise yourself, I would have removed that Kassa Fabrication shoulder set; there are not many people on Omega that own that."

Garrus closed his eyes and cursed. In a swift movement, he turned and inconspicuously drew his Brawler and shoved it into the human's ribcage.

"I wouldn't talk so loudly if I were you," He said just loudly enough for the human to get the message.

Now that he looked at the male, he recognized him as a face in the crowd. He silently had his mind run through all the possible options of how to deal with this new problem. The human didn't flinch or look at the pistol.

He stared at Garrus with a poker face, "Brawler, powerful gun, though I'm pretty sure you'd alert every security official on this floor of the club," He spoke just above the music yet confidently, continuing to look up at Garrus.

"Relax, I'm not here to start trouble... in fact, I've been looking for you," he said as he nodded at the bartender that came back with his drink. He slowly grabbed his liquor and took a drink before returning his attention to Garrus.

Garrus' heartbeats synced with the beats of the song. A long silence stretched out as the club before them writhed with life. He respected the human, reminded him of Shepard. The human was calculated and calm, even with a gun poking into his ribcage.

"Alliance Navy?" Garrus inquired with his hostage.

"Former Commander, Alliance Navy, Black Mamba Operations," he replied without blinking an eye.

"Black Mamba? Can't say I've heard of that one," Garrus replied, still eyeing the human and calculating his options.

"Few have, N7 training required. The human Spectre, Commander Shepard, had it. X-ray classified intel, before we were decommissioned," the human said.

Different species were walking to and from the bar, unaware of the battle of wills that was occurring before them - or the gun pointed right into the human's ribcage.

Garrus eyed the human cautiously. Clearly, he was a professional.

"You're a long way from home. What brings you here?" Garrus asked suspiciously.

The human laughed lightly before turning to the turian with a completely dead look.

"Business, pleasure, a few mutual acquaintances... what else can you ask for on a vacation?"

"A vacation? I'm guessing your travel agent doesn't like you very much," Garrus said, taking another gulp of his turian scotch.

The human laughed loudly, "A gunslinger, _and_ a comedian. I like that. Makes the business of killing all the more easier. My friend likes you, too."

Garrus looked around, seeing only a group of asari and human women walk by with shot glasses of alcohols of different colours. Seeing no one, he turned back to the human.

"I'm beginning to see why you were decommissioned."

The man laughed again, "You've definitely got reason to believe that, but let me level with you. I've got a man watching us. Look straight ahead, two levels up, three booths from the wall."

Garrus looked as directed to find another human, this one in light combat armour, leaning over the rail and looking down at the both of them. As if on cue, he toasted him from above.

"He's been listening to our whole exchange, and he likes you. Now, if that were to change... my friend has this real nice turian friend, this one you won't find, but I can assure you, he's high above you. Now unlike my friend, the only thing he'll toast you with is a bullet through your head and out your ass if we so see fit."

Garrus felt uncomfortable, as if his armour had shrunken four sizes in the past thirty seconds. Beads of sweat dotted the crest of horns on his head as the seconds passed. He quietly willed himself to relax, _'You've had situations turn around on you before. Focus, Vakarian!'_

"Relax," The human said while lightly punching him in his shoulder plate, "If I wanted to have you killed, I wouldn't have come up to you and put myself in the line of fire. I take risks, but I'm not stupid," The man said with a harsh laugh as he downed the remainder of his drink.

Signaling the bartender for another, he looked around suspiciously, and got closer to Garrus, no longer fearing the Brawler limply prodding into his side.

"No, the reason I'm here is because I see an opportunity... you've got some talent with a gun and a good sense of right and wrong," He said just loud enough to be heard over the asari house music being played. "I'm kind of sick of who's in charge, not because I want to take over, but because I see people get dragged out of their houses and executed in cold blood," He said in a grim tone. "Don't like your girlfriend? Consult your friendly neighbourhood mercenary clan and they'll break down the door, take her away, and you'll never see her again," He said with disgust. "I'm into vigilante justice myself, probably why I'm not with Black Mamba anymore," He finished with a harsh laugh.

His second drink came just in time and he drank half of it in a single gulp. "What I propose, is an exchange for mutual gain. Let's say you and I, and my two guys above..." he pointed upwards, "... talk this over in a more friendly setting. If you say no, then we won't bother you and we'll leave you alone."

Garrus, still rattled by having the tables turned, was having trouble getting himself to move, let alone talk. He felt as if he had stood there for hours, watching the people walk by, not realizing the battle of the minds going on just a mere foot away.

Garrus downed the rest of his scotch as he thought, _'Might as well, if I'm possibly seconds from death.'_

"And what makes you think that I can trust you?" he responded.

The human's eyes glazed over for a good three seconds as if not paying attention. He then turned his head to the right and looked at Garrus, "Because we have a few unexpected guests, and I think I know who they're looking for."

* * *

**Thanks for reading, please feel free to review. More to come!**


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